


It's Always Been You

by charlesdk



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Childhood Friends, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Jock Derek, M/M, Nerd Stiles, Oblivious Stiles, POV Stiles, but only briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 11:58:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9895505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesdk/pseuds/charlesdk
Summary: Stiles' love life was practically non-existing, always had been. He was always terrible at picking up clues when people hit on him (it had happened, Erica had been witness to it and had been the one to let him know it was happening in the first place) because he never expected anyone to do so.He wasn't the most desirable guy around, he knew that. He was loud, extremely nerdy, never knew when to stop talking, not exactly much of a looker if you asked him, the list was endless.Point was, he never did know when someone was flirting with him. Which was probably how he ended up in the fight that would change his life for the better.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragneels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragneels/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, [FLORA](http://nevillelongbottom.co.vu/)!! <3

“I swear to fucking God, if you don't come over here with a giant bag of Reese's and a gigantic tub of ice cream – better be my favorite flavor, too – then I'm firing you as my best friend,” Stiles threatened into the phone pressed against his ear. His face was buried in the pillow on his bed so his words came out in a muffle. But, judging by the chuckle in his ear, he was understood regardless.

“I'll be there in fifteen, drama queen,” Derek said, amusement and fondness clear in his voice, and Stiles groaned at him before hanging up and tossing his phone carelessly toward the foot of the bed.

When he was five years old and running around the park with his action figures, his dad sitting on a bench nearby and talking to the other parents, Stiles had met Derek Hale. Derek had been six at the time, a few months shy of turning seven, and he had been at the park with his sisters. But instead of watching them or paying attention to little Cora trying to play with him, he had been watching Stiles.

Stiles had taken notice and, being Stiles, had gone over and asked him if he wanted to play superheroes with him. Derek had smiled brightly and nodded, and Stiles had handed him his Superman action figure while keeping his own Batman one.

They had played for hours, both swallowed into their own little world and completely ignoring the rest of the universe. It had just been the two of them; Batman and Superman saving the citizens (ants and insects) of the grass below them.

They had become inseparable since then, Stiles latching onto Derek like a leech and Derek letting him. And when Derek had shown up to Stiles' sixth year birthday party with a special edition of a Batman comic, Stiles had declared him his best friend. Not much changed over the years, not even when they themselves changed.

Derek had started in high school two years before Stiles would follow him, and he'd started playing basketball. Derek had always had a certain love for sports, something Stiles never would and still didn't understand. Derek had tried to explain it to him once, why he loved the rush of playing and why pushing himself until his body was sore made him feel good, but Stiles had just looked at him like he was crazy.

It didn't matter, anyway. Despite not understanding it, Stiles had shown up at every single one of Derek's games like the good best friend he was, and he had cheered his heart out whenever Derek scored. And every time, Derek would turn to him and smile so brightly that Stiles was certain he was lighting up the whole gym.

Derek had quickly become your stereotypical jock, except for the fact that he was still brilliant and smart and did exceptionally well in his classes and except for the fact that he wasn't an asshole (not completely, anyway, but that was okay because Stiles was an asshole too) and except for the fact that he had continued to cancel plans with his jock friends to hang out with Stiles.

Derek was painted as a jock in high school, and Stiles – well, Stiles was your stereotypical nerd; Nerd with a capital N. His eyesight had started going bad at twelve, and he had gotten himself some thick glasses. He only ever wore comic tees, was stupidly smart (not to brag), spend his free time watching movies and TV shows and playing video games into the early hours of the day and reading comics and a huge variety of books.

He had always been like that, and high school hadn't changed that part of him.

Going into high school on the first day, Stiles had been afraid of being left alone. He had been afraid that no one would want to be friends with him. He wasn't stupid, he'd seen the movies. He hadn't expected Derek to hang out with him even though they were best friends. Stiles was a nerd, Derek was a jock. They just didn't run in the same crowd.

But Derek had shown up at the parking lot after Stiles' dad had dropped him off, and Derek had wrapped an arm around his shoulders and proudly walked the halls with his best friend. Hell, he'd even snapped at the few assholes who tried to bully Stiles and glared at anyone who even dared to look at him the wrong way.

“You're my best friend, Stiles,” Derek had said one day, when Stiles had asked him why he did that. “No one but me gets to make fun of you.”

Stiles had punched his shoulder with a scoff. Derek had laughed and pulled him in for a nuggie, that Stiles had to wrestle his way out of.

When Derek was sixteen and Stiles was fourteen, Derek had started dating a girl. Her name was Paige and she was great. Perfect, even. But the relationship hadn't lasted for more than a few weeks, a few weeks where it was almost like they didn't date at all because nothing had changed and Derek still hung out with Stiles more than his own girlfriend. And then they broke up.

Derek had come over and told him with a sad shrug, and Stiles had asked him what happened. Derek had just looked at him for a long moment, then he'd shrugged again, smiled a little, and said, “It just didn't work out.”

There had been something strange about the way he'd said it, and Stiles had known Derek hid something from him. But it was never brought up again, and Derek had stopped dating altogether.

Derek went off to college, and Stiles had followed him two years after. Because there was no Stiles without Derek, and Stiles didn't want to be away from his best friend any longer than he needed to.

They didn't share a dorm room, because Derek was in his fourth year and Stiles was only in his second, and they didn't share any classes. Derek still played an obscene amount of basketball and Stiles was still a capital N Nerd, they still didn't run in the same crowd.

But that didn't matter, because they were still best friends and they still saw each other every single day. Even times like these – _finals_ – they saw each other every day.

“It's open!” Stiles called out when there was a knock on his door. He didn't bother moving from his starfished position on his bed, too tired to even lift his head from where it was buried in his pillow.

The door opened, and he could practically hear the eye roll that accompanied the sigh from somewhere in that direction. He just exhaled in a long and muffled groan and didn't move, only flattened himself further against the mattress of the bed.

“Are you planning on becoming one with the bed?” he heard Derek ask, the door closing partway through his question.

“Yeah, it's the perfect life,” Stiles said into his pillow. “No one expects anything from you, you get to be in bed all day long, people cuddle with you, and you're always buried in blankets. Sounds perfect to me, buddy. I'm giving up my life long dream and becoming a bed instead.”

“Well,” Derek drawled, and Stiles heard him sit down on the desk chair in the room, the wheels of it scraping along the floor as he scooched across it and toward the bed. “Beds can't eat the curly fries I so kindly picked up on the way over, so I guess I'm just gonna have to eat them myself.”

Stiles laid still for all of one second more, before he rolled over and held out a hand. “Gimme,” he said with a groan as he sat up, making grabby hands at Derek.

Derek quirked a brow at him, gave him a look that Stiles knew was his judgmental one. He shook his head and slid Stiles' glasses onto his face carefully. “Where's my please and thank you?” he asked while pushing the glasses properly up the bridge of his nose.

“You're an asshole,” Stiles said, adjusting his glasses, “and I hate you. Give me my fries.”

A beat of silence and nothing but the two of them staring blankly at each other passed, then Derek grinned widely and handed him the bag from the nearby fast food chain. Stiles dug in immediately, shoving still warm and fresh fries into his mouth with a satisfied sigh.

“It's not ice cream and Reese's,” he said around a mouthful, “but it's good enough. You're the best, man.”

“It was either bring you food or listen to you moan and bitch about it for the rest of the day,” Derek said, leaning back on the chair with a teasing grin.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. It was only then that he noticed the clothes Derek was wearing; basketball shorts, white tank top with a cardigan thrown over, and his sneakers. “Dude,” he said and pointed at him. “Why 're you still in your basketball clothes?”

Derek blinked at him, glanced down at himself, then looked back at Stiles. “Because I just finished training with the guys,” he said slowly, lifting a brow at Stiles.

Stiles paused. “Did you come here straight from practice?”

“Yeah,” Derek said with a shrug. The tips of his ears were going a pretty pink, which could only mean he was getting embarrassed.

Stiles grinned widely at him and nudged his foot with his own. “You're a dork,” he told him, grinning wider when Derek's ears turned red. “Couldn't wait to spend time with little ol' me, so you sprinted here the second your coach blew the whistle, huh?”

Derek rolled his eyes and said, “Shut up, Stiles.”

“It's okay,” Stiles chuckled. “I know I'm a delight to be around.”

“You're a horrible person, is what you are.”

“You can't pull that on me, Derek.” Stiles lifted an accusing finger, grin wide and bright. “You literally just admitted that you can't wait to hang out with me, plus we've known each other for seventeen years. If you really thought I was a horrible person and you hated me so much, you would have left ages ago.”

Derek stared at the ground for a long moment, a small pout on his lips that Stiles wanted to poke at. Then he sighed, shrugged, and said, “Well, you do have your moments.”

“Moments where I'm great, which is always,” Stiles said with a nod and threw a fry into his mouth. “Correct.”

Derek huffed and shook his head, a soft smile replacing the pout. “You're such an asshole.”

“And you love me because of it,” Stiles said with a wide and toothy smile, not caring that his mouth was full of fries.

Derek looked at him, the smile slowly faltering a little when he said, “Yeah, I do.”

Stiles paused and studied his best friend for a moment, when he noticed the wistful tone in his voice. There was a crease between Derek's brows, that little wrinkle that usually meant something was wrong.

So, frowning and lowering the fry he had been guiding to his mouth, Stiles nudged him and asked, “Hey, you okay?”

Derek met his eye and smiled a smile that was so obviously fake it made Stiles' heart hurt. “Yeah, I'm fine,” Derek told him.

“Derek,” Stiles started, intended to call him out on his lie and try to get him to tell him what was wrong, but he was interrupted when his phone started buzzing wildly on the bed. Groaning, he fell sideways and reached for it, opening the messages from Isaac and Erica he'd just received.

> **[** 06:15 PM **] Isaac** : study break at lunar bring derek

> **[** 06:16 PM **] Erica** : Squad hangout at lunar stat!!

“Isaac and Erica wanna hang out,” Stiles said, sending back a series of thumbs up to them both.

Derek hummed and said, “Boyd too.”

Stiles lowered his phone and looked over at him, seeing him with his phone out as well. He paused for a moment, then sat up and faced him. “Seriously, Derek,” he said, nudging him gently and sending him a worried look. “Are you okay? I know when you're lying to me, so please don't. You know you can tell me anything, I'm your best friend.”

“I'm fine, Stiles,” Derek said and looked back at him. He was lying, Stiles knew it. That smile was too fake to be anything but a lie. “I'm just,” he sighed and shrugged, “tired from practice and finals. That's all.”

Stiles considered him for a moment, then decided to just stop pushing. If Derek wanted to talk about it, then he would.

With a nod, Stiles reached over and patted Derek's knee. “Alright, big guy,” he said and smiled softly at him. “You wanna tell the others to fuck off and have a night in? Eat some junk food, watch some terrible movies and make fun of the acting?”

Derek laughed, and Stiles' smile widened because this smile was real, unlike his previous ones. “Nah,” Derek said with a shake of his head. “It's okay. Besides, if we don't come willingly, they'll just come drag us out.”

“Yeah, they would do that, wouldn't they?” Stiles sighed, stretched, and jumped off the bed. “Okay, then. Let's both get in some more appropriate clothes and go meet them.”

{ … }

Lunar was a bar only a few blocks from their campus. It was small and wasn't usually all that crowded, which was perfect. None of them really liked the big crowds, so Lunar was the perfect place for them. It had quickly become their regular hang out spot when they all needed some time away from their studies.

Stiles spotted the small group of three almost immediately after stepping inside, Derek stepping in after him. There were maybe a handful of other people in the bar, just like usual, so spotting his friends was easy. Especially when Erica raised both arms and waved them over a second after they had fully stepped inside and the door was closed behind them.

“Hey,” Stiles greeted them with a wide smile, letting himself be embraced by Erica while knocking his fist to Boyd's. “How's the studying going?”

“Smoothly,” Isaac said flatly, stepping back from his brief but tight hug with Derek. “That's why we're in a bar, about to get smashed to forget about it.”

“He says, even though he hasn't even tried to study for the past ten hours,” Boyd mumbled under his breath, and Stiles snorted.

“I'm procrastinating, shut up,” Isaac said and slumped back down on the bar stool.

“And drinking is obviously the best way to procrastinate,” Derek said, putting a hand on Isaac's shoulder and squeezing.

“What else are we gonna do?” Erica asked, leaning against Boyd's side, Boyd's arm wrapping around her waist. “Be productive on something else?” She huffed and raised her brows. “Please, like that's ever gonna happen.”

“I will absolutely drink to that,” Stiles said brightly and leaned over the bar just slightly to catch the bartender's attention, getting both himself and Derek a drink; something alcoholic for himself and something non-alcoholic for Derek.

{ … }

Here's the thing: Stiles had never really dated. Sure he'd had his share of crushes on a few girls and a couple of guys, but nothing ever really became anything more than that. A crush that usually faded away after a few weeks, a few months at most, that was it.

The longest he'd ever crushed on someone was back in high school, when he only had eyes for Lydia Martin, the popular girl at school. Needless to say, it hadn't worked out. For one, Lydia had started dating Allison Argent and, as far as he knew, they were still going strong. For another, it had been more admiration than it had been a crush, anyway.

Stiles' love life was practically non-existing, always had been. He was always terrible at picking up clues when people hit on him (it had happened, Erica had been witness to it and had been the one to let him know it was happening in the first place) because he never expected anyone to do so.

He wasn't the most desirable guy around, he knew that. He was loud, extremely nerdy, never knew when to stop talking, not exactly much of a looker if you asked him, the list was endless.

Point was, he never did know when someone was flirting with him. Which was probably how he ended up in the fight that would change his life for the better.

{ … }

“Who wants a refill?” Stiles asked as he got up from the booth they had moved to a good hour ago. He stretched, feeling pleasantly buzzed and loose.

“I'm good, thanks,” Body said, leaning back against his seat.

“If you're paying, I'll have another,” Erica said, sending Stiles a sweet smile while she leaned into Boyd.

Stiles made a face at her and said, “Pay for your own drinks.”

Erica send him pleading eyes, and Stiles lasted all of five seconds, before he sighed. “Alright, fine. I'll pay for your damn drink.”

“Thanks, Stiles,” she said and smiled brightly at him.

Stiles stuck his tongue out at her, then turned to Derek who was smiling softly back at him. “Hey, doofus,” he said and nudged his foot against Derek's. “You want a refill?”

“Depends,” Derek said. “Are you gonna pay for mine, too?”

“Now, why would I do that?” Stiles asked, quirking a teasing brow.

“'Cause I'm your best friend and I've bought you food for years,” Derek said, giving him an unimpressed look. “I think you owe me at least one drink.”

“I've paid you back for all those times by letting you hang around me.”

“Right, because I obviously can't find better company.”

“Obviously. I'm the best person in your life, and you know it, Hale.”

“Yeah.” Derek's teasing smile was gone in a second, replaced by a soft one. “Yeah, you are.”

Stiles blinked at him, eyes going wide with surprise and face slowly heating up. Why, he had no idea. “Wow, not even a little tease? Geez, Der,” he huffed and reached out to look into Derek's glass. “Are you drunk? Did someone spike your water with something alcoholic?”

“He's just drunk on love,” Isaac muttered quietly, and Stiles send him a questioning look. Isaac just grinned widely in response, while Erica and Boyd snorted and chuckled quietly to themselves.

Stiles looked back at Derek to hopefully get an answer, but he found Derek glowering at the three of them. “Um,” he said intelligently, eyes flickering between them. “I think I'm missing something here.”

“Don't worry about it,” Erica said and reached out to pat his shoulder. “Just go get us some more drinks.”

Backing away slowly, Stiles looked at Derek with a confused expression on his face. Derek's ears were bright red, as were his cheeks, and he was slowly sinking further and further down into his seat.

Yeah, Stiles was definitely missing something there.

Shaking his head and deciding to move on, Stiles turned around and headed toward the bar to the sound of his best friend cursing at the others laughing hysterically. It hurt, just a little, to be left out of whatever that was about, but he tried not to dwell on it for too long. It certainly wasn't the first time something like that had happened, and he doubted it would be the last.

_Might as well just get used to it_ , Stiles told himself as he caught the bartender's attention and ordered the drinks.

He rested his elbows on the bar and leaned heavily against it, absently fidgeting with the nearby stack of napkins. He hadn't been standing there for long, a little bit in his own head, before someone tapped his shoulder and asked for his attention.

Blinking back to reality, Stiles lifted and turned his head. He had expected to see Derek or any of the others, but no. Instead of any of his friends, he came to look at a girl. She was smiling sweetly at him, her lips painted in a soft pink gloss and her dark brown hair hanging over her shoulder in a loose braid.

“Hi,” she said, leaning next to him against the bar with a small tilt of her head.

“Um, hi,” Stiles greeted back, slightly confused. People didn't usually approach him. And by usually, he meant ever. People never approached him, not at bars or any other public space. Not unless they were his friends, but they were all still sitting back at the booth, waiting for him to return with their drinks.

“I'm Megan,” the girl introduced herself as with the soft smile slowly widening just a little.

“Stiles,” he said, rolling his eyes when she quirked a curious brow. “Yeah, I know. It's a nickname, but I don't feel like spending five minutes trying to teach you how to pronounce my actual name. I mean, I can barely do it, so,” he trailed off with a half shrug.

Megan chuckled and shuffled the tiniest bit closer. “You're cute,” she said, smiling at him. “Anyway, I just wanted to came over and tell you that I like your shirt.”

Stiles blinked and looked down at his own shirt; a simple, black shirt with a print of the Death Star on the center. “Thanks,” he said and smiled back at her. “You into Star Wars?”

“Of course I am,” Megan said with a snort. She raised a hand to play with her braid a little as she moved closer, just the tiniest bit. “Who doesn't like Star Wars?”

“That's what I've always said!” Stiles exclaimed, smiling widely at her. “Dude, you wouldn't believe how many people I've had to literally force to watch the movies with me. Like, this one time-”

He was cut off abruptly, when there suddenly was a strong arm wrapping around his shoulders, and a familiar voice said, “Hey, babe, you're taking forever with the drinks. We don't have all night, you know.”

Stiles whipped his head around and looked at Derek with a brow raised. “Did you just call me babe?” he asked, completely ignoring how much he liked having Derek this close.

Derek wasn't even looking at him though. No, he was looking (more like glaring, that was definitely a glare, and his eyebrows were screaming _Fuck off_ ) at Megan. “Who's this?” he asked, voice flat and clipped.

“Uh, Megan,” Stiles said and looked back at her. Megan had taken several, although small, steps backwards, her smile had faded, and she was looking... Stiles would almost say guilty or embarrassed or maybe both. Or something completely different, he wasn't quite sure. “Megan, this is Derek, my-”

“Boyfriend,” Derek interrupted, and Stiles turned to give him a look. “His boyfriend.”

“Oh. Well,” Megan said with a small chuckle before Stiles could do anything more than gape at his best friend and ignore the flush that rose to his cheeks. “Guess I've been barking up the wrong tree, then.”

“Yeah,” Derek said, smiling tightly at her with his eyes narrowed. “Guess so.”

“I'm just gonna,” Megan said, gesturing behind her as she backed away slowly, “go back to my friends, then. Bye, Stiles.”

“Bye,” Stiles said, still trying to process whatever the hell was happening. The moment Megan turned her back to them, Derek dropped his arm from around Stiles' shoulders, and Stiles turned to give him a look, smacking his arm. “What the hell was that about?”

“Nothing,” Derek said and grabbed the drinks that had been put on the bar a minute ago.

“That was not nothing,” Stiles insisted, following after him back toward the booth. “That was you being a giant asshole to someone making friendly conversation with me, because what? You were jealous that I might actually make a new friend?”

Derek was walking with his back to him, but Stiles could see the eye roll he did anyway. Derek sat the drinks down on the table, grabbed his jacket, and announced, “I'm gonna go home.”

“Wha- Hang on!” Stiles reached out to grab Derek's arm to stop him from going anywhere, but Derek jerked out of his hold and stormed out of the bar before he could get a proper grip. Stiles stared after him for a second, before he turned to the rest of the booth and gave them a look of confusion.

“Better hurry after him,” Erica said, reaching across the table to grab her drink. “He's fast when he's upset, you know that.”

Stiles stared at her, then at the door closing after Derek, then at Isaac and Boyd giving him pointed looks, then back at the door, and then finally his brain kicked into gear. He flailed wildly before grabbing his own jacket and running through the bar after his best friend.

The streets were bare of people, save for a few on the other side, so Stiles spotted Derek fast-walking down the street almost immediately. “Derek!” he called after him, quickly running after him to catch up to him. “Derek, hey! Wait up!”

“Leave me alone, Stiles,” Derek said, only walking faster. Stiles walked faster after him.

“Absolutely not,” he said, dodging a lamppost to keep up with Derek. “Not until you tell me what the hell that was about back there.”

Derek let out a grumpy huff and said, “She was flirting with you.”

Stiles snorted and picked up speed to walk next to him. Derek looked pissed, he noticed. Pissed and really upset, and Stiles hated that. Especially because he had no idea why.

“Dude, she was not flirting with me, trust me,” Stiles said. “I know when people flirt.” He didn't, actually.

“No, you don't,” Derek said, sounding almost frustrated. “You never know when people flirt with you.”

“Yes, I do!” Stiles argued. “And it's not a lot, I can tell you that much.”

“People flirt with you all the time,” Derek said, raising his voice, “and you never notice!”

“What?” Stiles paused for a brief moment to think, but then he shook his head and picked up speed again to keep up with Derek. “No, they don't. Whatever, it doesn't matter! Maybe she was flirting with me, I don't know, but why would you-”

“Because I'm in love with you, Stiles!” Derek interrupted loudly, coming to an abrupt halt and whirling around to look at him, and Stiles promptly shut up. “I've been in love with you since I was sixteen years old, probably even longer than that!”

Derek let out a heavy breath, before he continued. “I was jealous, okay? I was jealous because I hate when other people flirt with you, 'cause it makes me realize that I don't have a chance with you,” he said, sounding more and more frustrated the more he talked. “I never did and I never will.”

He sighed heavily, shoulders slumping as he looked down at the ground. “So there,” he said, voice lowered and tight. “Are you happy now?”

Stiles blinked. Then blinked again. “You-”

“Yes,” Derek interrupted and looked away. His ears were bright red under the dim light coming from the street and the moon hanging up above. His brows were furrowed and his jaw was clenched, his shoulders tense.

Stiles had known Derek for seventeen years, and by now, he knew every little tell. He knew when he was lying, when he was telling the truth, when he was embarrassed, when he was hiding something, everything.

This? This was Derek telling the truth. This was Derek being upset and embarrassed and sad, but telling the truth nonetheless.

Stiles blinked and inhaled sharply. His heart was pounding in his chest, his eyes slowly widening as they stayed glued to Derek and his stiff posture, his whole face heating up with a flaming blush.

Derek was in love with him.

Derek was in love with him, and Stiles – Stiles _wanted_.

“So,” Stiles croaked out after swallowing thickly, and he took a daring step closer to Derek. “Are you gonna keep being a coward, or are you gonna do something about it and kiss me?”

In an instant, Derek lifted his gaze from the ground and looked at him. He looked at him for a long, calculating moment, and Stiles tried not to squirm under the intensity of it. His blush only darkened and his heart only pounded harder the longer Derek looked at him, but Stiles didn't take the challenge back. He didn't _want_ to, he found.

He wanted Derek to kiss him, and he wanted to kiss him back. Maybe he had wanted to for a while and just hadn't realized it, Stiles didn't know and he didn't care.

He didn't care, because then Derek was surging forward, grabbing his face, and pulling him in. He didn't care, because then Derek was kissing him, and Stiles melted into it with a sigh.

Stiles had never really imagined it; kissing his best friend. But doing it now and feeling Derek holding him and kissing him so passionately it made his knees weak, Stiles couldn't help but think that this was what love must feel like.

Kissing Derek was exactly how kissing was described in books and exactly how it was visualized in movies. When their lips met and Derek pulled him flush against him, Stiles felt like he was floating. When their lips met, it was like the outside world just washed away, and it was only Stiles and Derek in that moment.

Stiles hadn't realized – maybe because he hadn't known what to look for, maybe because he had been afraid to look for anything beyond the platonic love he knew for certain he felt – that maybe, just maybe, he might be a little bit in love with Derek too.

They kissed and kissed and kissed, and Stiles never wanted it to end. But, it did end.

“Get a room!” a familiar voice yelled out somewhere to the right, the voice piercing through the little bubble of their own universe they had been in for God knows how long.

Stiles reluctantly pulled away from Derek's lips and looked to the right, slightly dazed and out of it from the kiss. He didn't step away from Derek though, kept a firm grip on him when Derek tried to pull away a little. Not even when he saw Erica, Boyd, and Isaac all grinning widely and smugly at them from the front of the bar.

He heard Derek groan and felt a weight on his shoulder, when Derek dropped his head onto it. Derek's ears were burning a bright red when Stiles looked at him, and he couldn't help but let out a happy laugh as he threw his arms around him, hugging him close to himself which only made Derek blush more.

“Fuck off, you guys!” Stiles yelled out, not bothering hiding the wide and happy smile that spread over his lips, even when he heard the unmistakable sound of Isaac making gagging noises in the distance.

Derek groaned against his shoulder, and Stiles squeezed him a little, ignoring their friends. “Hey,” he said, kissing one of Derek's red ears. “You wanna go back to my room? There's more privacy there than out in the middle of the street with our asshole friends making fun of us.”

Derek seemed to deflate a little against him, while Stiles peppered light butterfly kisses to the side of his head and then, when Derek slowly lifted his head, to his forehead. There was a soft smile on his lips, and Stiles' heart fluttered. He had never seen Derek look this happy. Not once, and _he_ did that.

“Yeah,” Derek said, snaking his arms around Stiles' waist and softly pressing their foreheads together. “Yeah, let's go.”

Stiles smiled at him and leaned in to give his lips a soft peck, that Derek quickly turned into a proper kiss. And Stiles melted into his arms.

{ … }

“You're heavy,” Stiles muttered and brought his arms further around Derek's middle, shifting slightly under the weight of him.

“Want me to move?” Derek asked, making absolutely no indication of moving.

Stiles was on his back on his bed in his own dorm room, and Derek was laying half on top of him, his head pillowed on his chest and their legs tangled together. The room was quiet, Stiles' roommate gone for the weekend to visit his girlfriend out of town.

It was nice, just laying there with Derek; cuddling and enjoying each other's silent company. Derek had come straight over from practice and was completely exhausted, so Stiles had laid down and opened his arms in a silent invitation that Derek had blushed at but not hesitated to fall into his arms.

Neither of them had moved since, and Stiles didn't want them to.

“No way in hell, dude,” Stiles said with a snort, squeezing Derek. “You will have to physically fight me to get out of here now, just so you know.”

“You do know I'm stronger than you, right?” Derek asked teasingly.

“You may be all muscle,” Stiles said and ran a hand down Derek's toned arm that laid across his own stomach, “but I could take you. I've got technique.”

Derek huffed against his chest and said, “Flailing doesn't count as technique, Stiles.”

“ _Strategic_ flailing, Derek.”

“There's nothing strategic about it.”

“There is!”

“Not.”

Stiles swatted at him, and Derek laughed. “You're an asshole,” Stiles said. “I could absolutely take you in a fight, and you know it.”

Derek tilted his head back a little and met his eye, holding his gaze for a silent moment. “You saying you're gonna fight me, right now?” he asked, voice lowered a little.

But Stiles wasn't looking him in the eye anymore. No, his gaze had lowered to his lips and he wasn't looking away. “Nah,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “I think I'd rather kiss you, actually.”

Derek blushed, his ears going a pretty pink, and he shifted a little, lifting his head up from Stiles' chest. He didn't move far and not for long. He only moved away to slide Stiles' glasses off and put them somewhere safe, before he cupped his face and leaned in to close the distance between them.

Stiles returned the kiss immediately, sighing against Derek's lips. This felt right, he knew that in his heart. It had only been a couple of days since Derek's blurted confession, but Stiles knew that this was where he was meant to be; with Derek, to the end.

They kissed for barely a minute, before Stiles pulled back and looked up at Derek. “Hey,” he said, bringing a hand up to touch Derek's cheek lightly. He knew his own face was flaming and probably blotchy and ugly red by the time he asked, “I can call you my boyfriend now, right?”

Derek's responding smile was blinding. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I'd love that.”

“And I can wear your basketball jersey, right?” Stiles asked, smiling back.

Derek rolled his eyes and said, “If you don't mind the sweat, sure.”

“And you'll kiss me after you win a game?”

“I'll kiss you anytime and anywhere,” Derek promised.

“And we can be the gross couple who hold hands everywhere and who everyone hates but is secretly jealous of?”

Derek shook his head fondly and leaned in to peck his lips quickly, a peck that Stiles didn't hesitate to return. “That's all I've ever wanted,” Derek said, kissing him again.

Stiles kissed back, but only for a moment. “And you'll let me touch your butt anytime I want to, right?”

Derek blinked and in a split second, his face fell into an unimpressed expression. He gave Stiles a look, while Stiles grinned widely and waggled his brows suggestively at him. Derek rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, before he pushed himself off of Stiles and got off the bed with a shake of his head.

“Wha- Hey!” Stiles called after him, scrambling to get off the bed as well. He pounced and flung himself at Derek, wrapping both arms and legs around him. “I told you you'd have to fight me to get out!”

Derek groaned and pushed at him. “Get off me, you idiot!”

Stiles laughed heartily, spotting the little fond smile pulling at Derek's lips. “Never!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come cry about fictional characters with me on [tumblr](http://hoechlbutt.tumblr.com/).


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